Forged in Fire by Juliette Cross Page A

was I ever going to have any peace again?
    “However,” continued Jude, “there are places they can be sent and states to which they can be expelled where a millennium is not long enough for them to regenerate.”
    “Okay. I’m assuming by places, you mean the place down there,” I said, pointing.
    He chuckled. The closest thing to a laugh I’d ever heard from him.
    “It’s not actually in the earth. That’s a myth.”
    “Well, I know,” I snapped, though my Catholic upbringing had filled my head with Danté’s version of hell. A dark, fiery pit deep underground. “Speaking of myths, what’s up with the fangs? You said there were no vampires.”
    “There are no vampires. Raw emotion draws the true beast out. You’ll notice the eyes and mouth transform at times like this, sometimes more.”
    “Wait. Hold up. Explain this to me, then. That’s not what Dommiel truly looks like? He looks worse than that?”
    Another laugh.
    Wow, I was on a roll.
    “High demons have a permanent humanlike form.”
    “Humanlike? Nice.”
    “This may resemble their appearance before the Fall. Their perversions in hell and on earth have distorted them. They hide the beast within to live amongst humans, corrupting their souls as they go.”
    “Great,” I sighed.
    “You wanted answers.”
    “Sort of like Dorian Gray, right?”
    He paused, glancing at me, obviously considering my literary reference. “I suppose, yet their portrait is concealed right beneath the surface not hidden in a room in their mansion. They can also shape-shift into other forms, animals, elements. They all have their favorite creature they like to mimic, typically keeping one around.”
    “Like a familiar? Like with witches?”
    “Genevieve, there’s no such thing as witches.”
    “Yeah, well, he sure did look like a creepy-ass vamp tonight. And you said there were none of those.”
    “Appearances can be deceiving,” he said, his gaze drifting to mine. “The truth is far worse than Hollywood’s glittery version of undead monsters.”
    “So, Dommiel’s familiar is a raven? I saw it in the corner of the room.”
    “Yes. Not a natural raven either. High demons create unnatural spawn.”
    I sighed again, feeling like I had an endless stash of puffed-up air that had to be released. I knew this world was real now, but I could hardly process it all.
    We passed under a gas lamp and stopped. We stood outside of Jude’s home. As much as I felt protected in his presence, I feared being alone with him in his house more than anything else right now. We appeared to be a romantic couple, holding hands along the sidewalk, but he was right. Appearances can be deceiving. He wasn’t exactly human. He was my protector, not a suitor for my affections. I wanted to know why he was protecting me, but decided to save that discussion for Monday. It was late, and I was exhausted—physically and emotionally. I needed to clarify one more thing.
    “I can feel your layer of illusion when you touch me. Dommiel could see straight through mine, but not yours. Will I ever be able to hide myself from them on my own?”
    I needed to know this. I needed to know there would come a time when I could protect myself. He didn’t respond at first, gazing at my hand held in his.
    “Yes. You’re still in your awakening. I have no timetable, but, one day, you won’t need me to shield you.”
    His eyes met mine, pools of pitch. No emotion whatsoever glimmered there. A shiver trembled through me.
    “Come. Let’s get you home.”
    Whew. No sleepover. He led us back toward the street, letting go of my hand. I scanned the cars to determine which one might be his. My eyes landed on a “mode of transportation” with badass R-and-B written all over it. I knew exactly what it was, because I thumbed through Erik’s magazines at the dojo in between classes, secretly fascinated by beautiful, hot, fast machines.
    “You’ve got to be kidding me.”
    If it hadn’t fit him so well, I’d say